


Comfort (In the Depths)

by DrabblingSparks (ingenious_spark)



Series: Saint Seiya prompts & short fic [134]
Category: Saint Seiya
Genre: Depression, Drabble, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Implied Attempted Suicide, Long Live Feedback Comment Project, M/M, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 14:43:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18448700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ingenious_spark/pseuds/DrabblingSparks
Summary: They are the strangest comrades. Though working together like this gives Camus an opportunity he'd never even considered: a chance to bond with Capricorn Shura.





	Comfort (In the Depths)

**Author's Note:**

> From a batch of prompts I did over on my tumblr, [@oopsbirdficced](http://oopsbirdficced.tumblr.com). This was previously posted in a drabble collection 'Saint Seiya: Snapshots’, that I have chosen to take down and post individually for ease of access. 
> 
> Original author's note: Warnings for implied attempted suicide. Shura is extremely depressed, and essentially a victim of childhood emotional abuse and manipulation, because you can't tell me that forcing a ten year old to kill someone isn't child abuse.  
> (Originally posted 7-9-2017)

“Do you wish things had happened differently?” Camus glances up at the voice, a warm Spanish accent coloring the shapes of Greek words. It's the Capricorn Saint, Shura. They never spent much time together.

“Of course I do,” he replies, soft and hushed in this borrowed hall. They don't know if the Specters are spying, but it's safer to assume they are. “I don't think anyone truly wants to die.” He says thoughtlessly, and Shura smiles, something dark and bitter.

“I wouldn't be so sure, Camus. I tried several times to die. It was only my own cowardice that prevented me,” he says, a dark, broken smile curling full lips. Camus is at a loss.

“Why…?” he asked finally, lost and unnerved. Shura sends him a sharp look, and he flinches.

“Why do you think? I killed my idol at the age of ten.” Shura snaps with an awful kind of bitter, biting rage. Camus huddles into himself, thrown and off balance, arms crossed protectively over his chest, shoulders rounded and head bowed. Shura let's out a gusty sigh. “That was uncalled for. My apologies. I suppose we never spent much time together, in the end. I'm just…”

“Anxious?” Camus supplies, uncurling a touch. Shura nods, dragging a hand through the short black curls of his hair.

“As good a word as any for it,” he sighs, and Camus reachs out a tentative hand to rest it on Shura’s arm, ready to snatch it back at any violent motion. Instead Shura seems to sag somewhat, weighed down by an invisible grief. Camus tries to recall how much Shura had interacted with anyone, and can't seem to recall. He had always been quiet, aloof and reserved. Had that been some kind of self punishment?

Moving slowly, giving the tall man ample time to bolt, Camus enfolds Shura in a hug, guiding Shura’s face to the hollow of his shoulder, clad in a soft, undyed tunic. Shura is tense for a long moment, before he shivers, becoming pliant in Camus’s arms. His own arms catch Camus tightly, squeezing a tiny huff out of him. Camus says nothing as slow, agonizing tears wet his shoulder, simply stroking those lush black curls, and rubbing circles into a broad, muscled back.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the LLF Comment Project, which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
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>   * Questions
>   * Constructive criticism
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
>   * Comments not in English
> 

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End file.
